A Duchess a Day (Awakened by a Kiss #1) - Charis Michaels Page 0,29

her own bodice, and went limp.

“Shaw?” Girdleston called a second time. Declan rolled his head against the carriage, looking in the direction of his name.

“Let me go!” Helena cried, invoking the loud, strange voice again.

“I’m not holding you,” Declan hissed, “you’re holding me.” She had draped herself across him like a wet sheet.

Girdleston was out of the second carriage, his umbrella clutched beside his face. “What in God’s name . . . ?”

“Uncle Titus,” exclaimed Lady Helena, her head hanging upside down, loose black hair trailing nearly to the mud, “tell your great lummox of a groom to unhand me. He’s ruined my dress.”

“Perhaps your dress deserves to be ruined,” scolded Girdleston, snapping his fingers. Two grooms rushed to peel her away.

To Declan’s great surprise, she allowed it. They set her upright and she went about smoothing her skirt and wringing out sopping hair.

“But what were you thinking, running down the street in a downpour?” scolded Girdleston.

She made a dismissive gesture. “A gust of wind had blown away my . . . my—”

“A likely story, the wind,” spat Girdleston. “And here in front of Lady Canning’s home, the carriages filled with gifts from her party. Appalling. If Shaw apprehended you, he is only doing his job.”

“If his job is to manhandle me,” countered Lady Helena, her eyes flashing.

And now Declan understood. His sole focus became surviving the next five minutes with his job intact.

“Shaw’s duty,” lectured Girdleston, “is to keep you safe and looked after, which he cannot do if you are sprinting down the street. Your parents promised me that this behavior was finished, my lady.”

Helena opened her mouth but Girdleston cut her off. “Shaw? Please escort Lady Helena to her mother and sisters. Excellent work, acting so quickly when the wind blew away her . . . item.”

“I do not wish to ride with my mother and sisters,” Helena announced. “I will ride in this carriage. With my gifts.” She jabbed the side of the third carriage with three firm taps.

“Very well,” said Girdleston. “The sooner you are out of the street, the better. But please be aware that you can expect to see significantly more of Mr. Shaw in your future.”

“I’ve no need of a ham-handed groom serving as my chaperon,” she said, huffing up the steps into the carriage.

“Your behavior suggests otherwise, my lady. And for that, you will now have Mr. Shaw waiting attendance with increasing regularly. Depend upon it. This cannot happen again. Thank God the rain has obscured the worst of it and most decent people are safely inside.”

Lady Helena, now nestled among boxes and trunks, slammed the carriage door shut.

Girdleston made a growling noise and turned to Declan. “Well done, Huntsman. Let us pray this is the worst of it. But do not let her out of your sight. Clearly she can only be trusted when she’s locked inside her rooms at night. Let us increase your surveillance. Monitor her every waking hour. Starting now. Ride with her, walk with her, hound her every step. Make her as secure as your own prison cell.”

The reference to Newgate made him go rigid.

“Yes, sir,” Declan gritted out, but the older man was already stumping away.

“Carry on,” Girdleston called, waving to the assembled grooms. “We have devoted enough time and spectacle to this street.” He mumbled to himself and climbed into the middle carriage, shaking his head.

Declan, now stunned, angry, and soaking wet, jerked open the door to the carriage and climbed inside.

Chapter Nine

Helena squeezed herself on the carriage seat between a stained-glass lantern and a portrait of a Labrador retriever. With hands that shook, she peeled off wet gloves and pulled Shaw’s list from her bodice. She could hear Girdleston’s voice droning on outside the carriage, but she ignored it. She scanned the list, holding it gingerly away from her wet dress and dripping hair.

It was all there, only a little smeared from the rain. Thank God.

The door to the carriage swung open and she jerked her head up. Declan Shaw climbed into the vehicle and sat heavily on a closed trunk at her feet. Glaring at her, he slammed the door.

The Lusk carriages were generous in size and lavishly appointed, but Shaw’s great height and breadth transformed it into a hatbox. He was dripping wet, and his greatcoat sluiced rainwater onto the floor. The carriage filled with the overheated scent of angry, wet, windblown male.

Helena’s pounding heart affected a tight flip and set off racing again. She kept her expression neutral. She said,